Waking
by crearealidad
Summary: Bones before dawn...before a case
1. Part 1

Title: Waking

Author: crearealidad

Rating: PG

Spoilers: None really

Summary: Bones before dawn…before a case

Word Count: 763

Disclaimer: Not mine. These characters belong to FOX, the creators of the show, and of course the real people who play them.

Authors Note: I'm brand-spankin' new in the world of Bones fic, but well into my eighth year of the addiction known as fan-fic writing. And of course, I always welcome feedback. Finally, this may be Part 1/?

The knocking wakes her. Three heavy raps on the door and she rolls onto her side with long stretch. She tries to open her eyes and focus on the clock on her nightstand, but then she drives her hands under her pillow to cradle her head and lets sleep slide back up over her. A little yawn spreads her lips before the knocking breaks back into her room. She snaps upright, shoves the heavy comforter down around her ankles, and glares at the clock that's telling her that it is not yet dawn.

A bigger yawn takes her over as she pulls her feet around to meet the cool floor. The fist is now banging loudly against her door, sending her muscles twitching at such a rude interruption. She looks down at her own chest and closes her eyes, watching herself only a few hours earlier pulling a thin cotton tank top over her bare breasts. Then she'd stepped into a pair of loose tap pants, whose drawstring she hadn't bothered to tie. Glancing around her bedroom, she remembers that her robe was hanging in the bathroom and that knocking was growing to be near deafening. With a weary shake of her head, she pushes herself up from the bed and shuffles carefully through her darkened apartment towards the door.

A slim line of light and the sound of her own name being called are slipping under the door along with the rapid thuds of an impatient man's determination. She pauses for a moment, leaning back towards her bed, before reaching to retract the deadbolt and pull open the door.

When the door swings in, he stops immediately, and all either of them can do is look. He is fully dressed and there are still pillow lines creased into her cheeks. She blinks slowly and he looks away, suddenly aware of the darkness that creeps out from her space. Clearing her throat, she tries to speak but only a hoarse hello manages to escape the hold of sleep.

"There's a case—"

She waves a hand at him, turning away from the door and walking back into the darkness. An invitation is grumbled and he steps inside, just far enough to allow the door to close. From somewhere beyond the light, water runs for a few moments then shuts off, and in the silence he could hear soft slurps and gulps, followed by a long sigh. He moves away from the door to stand near her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Bones, I'm sorry okay? I tried to call your cell, but—"

Then he felt her head leaning back against his shoulder and the rest of words just got stuck. She turns a bit until he could feel the warmth of her cheek through his suit jacket. "It's okay, Booth, just… give me a minute, please." The hand on her shoulder squeezes slightly, pulling her whole body in closer.

She shivers, the replay of pulling her thin pajamas on just before sliding under the cocoon of blankets flashing along her skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps for his fingers to feel rising. His hand slides down her upper arms to sooth the raised skin, but instead only ignites them, chasing them down her spine, leaving behind a tingling chill. Ducking her chin down, she lets her nose push against the lapel of his jacket for a few minutes, making closer contact with the warmth of his chest. "I'll go get dressed. Get my things together. Then we can get going," she whispers, still muffled by the proximity of him.

He nods and watches her step away, letting the chilly morning air return to its place around him. She walks away from him, flipping a switch as she leaves the kitchen area, spreading warm light throughout the space. One strap of her top has fallen from its place on her shoulder and the loose pants have ridden down to the lowest edge of her hip and between there is a small strip of skin.

Abruptly she stops, turns, and finds his gaze following her hips. When his eyes rise to meet her own, there's a long pause and her lips open, waiting to see if he is going to speak. When he didn't move, her fingertips hook into the waistband of her pants and tug them up slightly and quickly tie off the drawstring to hold them in place. She licks her lips, then asks, "Is there time for me to shower?"

"Sure, Bones. I'll just wait on the couch."


	2. Part 2

Title: Waking (Part 2/?)

Author: crearealidad

(see disclaimer and notes in Part 1)

He sits down on the couch to wait for her, but only a few moments later, she re-emerges, a heavy gray bathrobe covering the soft loose cotton of earlier. She is fully upright now and with a few quick steps, she's strides up behind him to rest her hands on his shoulders. Her strong fingers curl in, squeezing the dense muscles disguised by layers of fabric.

"I thought you were going to get ready?" He says, turning to grin up at her.

"I just realized that I didn't ask where we're going. Are we staying in the area or do I need to pack as well?"

"Ahhh…Ohio. It's supposed to be pretty cold."

She moves around the couch to stand in front of him in the space between his knees. Looking down at him, she asks, "What's in Ohio?"

"Two bodies found—Wait. We need to get going. Get dressed, then we'll talk decaying corpses." He stands, sliding an arm across her lower back and guiding her down the hall to her bedroom. Her arms come up and try to push him away, then turns in his grasp to face him, stopping just short of her door. When her mouth opens to speak, he covers her mouth with a broad hand, tsking at her impatience. He is now wrapped around her and she can feel the warmth of his body even through the heavy cloth.

"Nope. We'll cover it on the way." With a gentle shove, he forces her into her bedroom and steps into the space to keep her from escaping, grinning playfully as he instructs her. "Now, go get all fresh and clean. Then we can have our dirty death talk."

With that, he steps back and closes the door. She calls his name from the other side of the door and grasps at the doorknob, but he is faster. His hand is already on the knob, holding it steady as she tries to jerk it around. "Fifteen minutes, Bones. Hurry it up!"

She sighs, turning away from the door to her dresser. Opening the drawer, she pulls out a cable-knit sweater and a pair of tan corduroy pants. She snatches underwear from another drawer, and lays the clothing out on her bed. Next, she walks to her closet, taking out several blouses, her Jeffersonian jumpers, and a few other pieces of clothing, folding them neatly next to the other clothes. Gathering the sweater and pants for the day, she enters the bathroom, setting them on the toilet.

From the living room, the flute concerto she had listened to the night before comes floating in. She reaches in to the shower and turns on the water before making her way out to where he is standing at her stereo. He's leaned in and examining the titles, searching for something and before he can hear her movements, she speaks, "Booth! What are you doing?"

His shoulders snap back, pulling him to standing, and he spins to face her but never meeting her eyes. "I was… Hell, I just wondered what you were listening to. Then I was looking… It was quiet and I know you've got better stuff here somewhere. I seem to remember some—"

"You were just snooping around while I was gone." She crosses her arms, glaring at him.

"It's not snooping if it's in plain sight," he taunts, moving towards her.

She doesn't back down, moving her hands to her hips, "Booth, I'm not a suspect. I'm your friend." She leans into him and for a moment he seems startled. Her body pushes against him as she reaches around behind him. Pulling back, she holds up a CD, "Here, now you don't need to snoop. And you can keep it. I have another copy." Depositing the CD in his cautiously upturned hand, she leaves him to discover what she's left him with as she disappears back to her bedroom. For a moment, he stares after her, the warm place where she had been against him still lingering.

Finally, he turns his eyes back to the gift she's given him, turning it over in his hands. The case is blank and inside is a disk labeled only "Favorites." Still staring down at the disk, he reaches out and stops the flute mid-note. The disk slides out of the stereo and he sets down his gift to gingerly deposit the CD back in the case sitting in front of the stereo. Then, he reaches for the disk she had given him, popping it out of its case. He's about to slide it into the machine, when he hears the water being cut. Glancing at his watch, he puts the CD back in its case and tucks it in his jacket pocket.

He walks back to the couch and he can hear fabric rustling and then the sound of a zipper sealing shut. There's a thud and clattering as the wheels of her suitcase hit the ground before she emerges, her hair still wet and tied up to the back of her head. Her eyes are focused down on the ground as she adjusts a shoulder bag, but looks up when he asks, "You ready to go?"

"Huh?" Her eyes snap to his and she stops fidgeting with her bag. "Oh, yes. Do we need to stop by the lab and get my kit?"

"No, I stopped by and picked it up on my way over here," he tells her, moving to stand next to her, placing a hand between her shoulder blades to guide her to the door. "Let's go."

In response she nods, then shoots him a questioning glance as he reaches down and grabs her suitcase from her. He shrugs and opens the door. She flips off the lights and steps out the door with him on her heels, then turns and locks the door before leading him down the hall.


End file.
